


a love that even time will lie down and be still for

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She would never admit it out loud, but in the safety of her own head, she likes to imagine this strange man exists outside her childish imagination and that one day, when her purpose has been filled, he’ll find her. Or maybe she’ll find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a love that even time will lie down and be still for

**Author's Note:**

> Happy River Song Appreciation Day! Story title and inspiration taken from Practical Magic.

In the days before the Raggedy Doctor and the Destroyer of Worlds changed everything, Amelia and Mels spent their long summer days tormenting Rory Williams and lounging in the grass behind Amelia’s house. Amelia liked to make shapes out of clouds but Mels, who only ever saw fluffy white clouds and not faces, animals and trains, liked to play another game – getting to know her mother.

 

“Would you rather have a boy or a girl?”

 

She waits, holding her breath while Amelia thinks.

 

“A girl,” she finally replies, much to Mels’ relief. “But I don’t know if I’ll ever have either.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I have to get married first.”

 

“Oh.” Mels nods in agreement. “I’m never getting married.”

 

Amelia lifts her head and stares. “What? Why not?”

 

 _Because psychopaths trained since infancy for one purpose just aren’t the marrying kind, mum_. Mels shrugs. “I don’t want to.”

 

“But don’t you want kids?”

 

She shakes her head, plucking at the grass and wishing she’d never asked her stupid question to begin with. “Don’t think I’d make a very good mum, not havin’ my own and all.”

 

“That’s rubbish,” Amelia declares, as if that’s that.

 

Mels huffs. “I can’t think of anyone I’d want to marry anyway. Can you?”

 

“The only boys we know are Rory and Jeff.” Amelia wrinkles her nose and giggles. “You can have Rory.”

 

Hiding her horrified face in her hands, Mels shudders. “No way! He’s all yours.”

 

“So you’d rather have Jeff?” Amelia teases, poking at her side.

 

Mels twists away from her, gagging.

 

“Who then?”

 

“Nobody!”

 

“You have to marry _somebody_!” Amelia brightens. “Let’s make a list.”

 

Mels peeks at her curiously through her fingers. “A list?”

 

Amelia nods vigorously. “A list of what you want your husband to be like – y’know, a wish list. And then we’ll look for him.”

 

“He’s not a Christmas gift, Amelia!”

 

“Oh, shut up and do it.”

 

Biting her lip, Mels asks, “You’ll make one too?”

 

“Course I will, stupid.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “I have to get married too!”

 

Together, with crayons and Amelia’s best construction paper, they compile a list of all the qualities their future spouses must possess, pouring over them in Amelia’s bedroom. Mels puts more thought into her short list than she ever has with her homework, and by the time it’s finished, she’s almost proud of it.

 

When Amelia snatches hers and reads it, she looks up at her in disbelief and says, “Mels, these are rubbish! You’ll never find a husband like this!”

 

Exactly. Such a man can’t possibly exist, and as long as Mels stick to her list like her own personal Bible, she’ll never fall in love. Even if this man is out there somewhere, he would never love her. Psychopaths aren’t worthy of love – Auntie Kovarian says so. With this list, Mels is safe from distraction from her mission, from heartache, for the first time in her life, just… _safe_.

 

Out loud, she retorts, “Like yours is better! ‘He’ll wait forever for me?’” She snorts. “He sounds like a wimp.”

 

Amelia grabs her list back and throws Mels’ list at her, sticking out her tongue. “Alright, now sign it.”

 

“What for?”

 

“To make it official, numpty.”

 

They obsess over their lists for the remainder of the summer, memorizing them like their times tables. As they grow, so does Amy’s interest in boys –she is always seeking what Mels already knows is right in front of her. Amy’s list becomes a lost and forgotten relic of their childhoods, but Mels secretly clings to hers. She dates, of course, but never anything serious. Her purpose deters her from forming real attachments to anyone, even her parents, but she often finds herself unfolding and refolding the creased, worn sheet of blue paper, tracing her fingers over the waxy crayon print. She would never admit it out loud, but in the safety of her own head, she likes to imagine this strange man exists outside her childish imagination and that one day, when her purpose has been filled, he’ll find her. Or maybe she’ll find him.

 

In the end, they find each other.

 

_1) He will know everything about me_

 

He keeps calling her River.

 

It’s as if her poison is slowly stealing his brain as well as his life. But he doesn’t look at her like he’s mistaking her for someone else. He looks at her like he’s the only one who can truly see her. That warm, knowing gaze shakes her to her core. So much so that she jumps out of a window to get away from him – well, that and this new body seems to have a thing for dramatic exits.

 

As it turns out, it isn’t quite so easy to escape the Doctor – or his charm. He talks to her with a look of expectation, as if he assumes she will not only understand the nonsense he spouts, but join in with her own nonsense. With the Doctor, she feels as if she has walked in after a class lecture and is totally lost, but still expected to participate in the class discussion.

 

Against her will, he intrigues her and when he dies with words of love for another woman on his lips, she feels a little bereft and can’t quite understand why until Amy shows her. She is not the woman the Doctor admires, respects, _loves_. But she could be. She could be the woman the Doctor knows everything about and Mels quite likes the sound of that.

 

“River,” he breathes with his very first breath, and as she leans down to kiss him hello, she smiles. She can see her whole life in his eyes. And it’s going to be _amazing_.

 

_2) He will hear my call across the universe_

 

She’s on her very first dig with her fellow students and her least favorite professor when it happens. She volunteers to work down in a pit they’ve unearthed – possibly the bedchamber of the king of Triton’s third son – and taking a small chisel to a very promising but half buried mural. With the drilling taking place through the center of the planet not ten miles away, it makes for a dangerous, unstable site but she thrives on it, adrenaline making her hands a bit unsteady at her work.

 

She chips away at earth, grime and centuries of dust slowly but surely, a bit smug as she thinks of revealing her find to her horrid professor. She’s so focused on what she’s doing that she almost misses the low rumble beneath her feet. The ground shakes, the walls around her tremble, and she only has time to cry out once before the fragile structure topples around her. It’s enough to kill anyone else but River isn’t anyone. She lies beneath the rubble mentally assessing the damage – broken arm, maybe a few cracked ribs. Broken bones are easily healed. Her real concern is suffocating before anyone can dig her out.

 

She can hear muffled, panicked shouts above her and closes her eyes, trying to breathe only when she has to. After a few minutes, another voice joins the group working to free her, this one calmer and quieter. At the sound of it, River smiles in relief. That voice belongs to someone who knows what he’s doing. The pace of the work above her speeds up now, the owner of the calm voice helping and occasionally snapping orders.

 

It feels like no time at all before she can breathe properly again, and when she cracks open her eyes, she sees the outline of a slender figure in a backdrop of red sky dropping into the pit with her. Warm hands cup her face and concerned, familiar eyes peer at her. “River? Look at me, dear.”

 

She squints up at him and he rewards her efforts by tenderly smoothing her hair from her brow. “Did you hear me?”

 

The Doctor grins, careful of her injuries as he gathers her into his arms. “Rule fourteen – I always hear you.”

 

_3) He swims in the Big Dipper_

 

The week before her final exams of her second semester, the Doctor pesters her endlessly. He shows up at her dorm at odd hours, lurks outside of her classes and generally distracts her from any real learning. Once, she threatened him with a pencil but strangely, he seemed to like that.

 

It’s only after he promises that if she comes with him, he’ll leave her in peace that she finally packs up all of her notes and books, carting them into the TARDIS library to study there. The Doctor settles almost instantly, as if the mere presence of her on his ship is enough to sustain him and all that manic energy.

 

River spreads out her notes on one of the heavy tables and begins to pour over them, listening absently to the Doctor splashing about in the pool as he patiently waits for her to finish. After five minutes, she glances up suddenly with a frown. “Are we still in my dorm room?”

 

Slicking his wet hair back, the Doctor blinks water out of his eyes and shakes his head. “Nope, parked her in space.”

 

She eyes him warily. “Where in space?”

 

The last thing she needs is for him to park illegally on a bloody asteroid. She won’t be paying for any more of his parking fines.

 

“Dunno.” He climbs out of the pool and starts for the diving board, miraculously managing to keep his footing. “The Big Dipper, possibly.”

 

She gazes blankly down at her notes and barely hears his cry of ‘ _Geronimo_!’ She only looks up when he’s in midair and there’s no stopping him from soaking her and her notes with his expertly executed cannonball.

 

_4) He’ll eat dessert first_

 

After another day of saving the world – a regular but never mundane occurrence when traveling with the Doctor – he takes her for fish and chips in 21st century London. They’re both still sweaty, dirty and very much worse for wear in their torn clothes but it’s gone three in the morning and they are too hungry to notice the stares.

 

The Doctor commandeers a table in the back, pushes her into her seat, and with a fond kiss dropped to the top of her head, he scurries off to order their food. River slumps in her seat wearily, already dreading the gaping looks she’ll get when she shows up to her morning classes tomorrow with three inches of hair on the left side of her head singed off. Maybe she should just chop it all off…

 

“Tired, Song?” The Doctor drops their tray on the table and looks down at her smugly.

 

Bastard.

 

“Hardly,” she grumbles, and reaches for her plate. “Where to next?”

 

He sinks into his seat across from her gingerly and she knows he must be every bit as sore as she is. It actually hurts _everywhere_.  “Bed.”

 

“Well, I’m a bit tired but alright.”

 

He squeaks. “Separately.”

 

“Pity.” She pouts at him but privately, she loves that the only time she ever sees him flustered is around her – particularly when he’s thinking of her naked. She watches him blush and avoid her gaze, focusing on his food instead. When he dips his fish finger into a cup of custard next to his plate, she stares openly.

 

Chewing happily, it takes him a moment to notice her looking at him. “What?” He glances down self-consciously when she pointedly averts her eyes. “It’s fish and custard. That way I don’t have to wait for dessert.” He beams proudly and River shakes away thoughts of her childhood, opening her mouth until he gets the hint and shares with a fond, “Only for you, Song.”

 

_5) He’ll be a superhero. Cape optional._

 

The Doctor comes to see her often while she’s in university, and as much as he enjoys sneaking up on her in the library and getting them kicked out because of her startled shriek or sitting behind her in class to fiddle with her hair and distract her from the lecture, his favorite thing to do is whisk her away. He always takes her to beautiful, strange, and far-off places, and River gets the distinct feeling he’s trying to impress her.

 

Unfortunately for him, most of the places he takes her to require his help in some way or another – usually in the middle of a picnic or a ball. Worlds in danger, tyrannical rulers, children crying – the Doctor can’t resist them and River rather admires that about him. He straightens his bowtie, grabs her hand, and with him at her side, she becomes a savior of worlds too.

 

The first time she goes against his wishes, there is a group of children involved – one of those save few or save all situations that have his hands tied. River decides she’s done letting him impress her. It’s her turn now. The desperate way he shouts her name as she runs headlong into danger is almost enough to make her turn around. Almost.

 

He saves the day just like he always does but River saves the children whose deaths would have haunted his footsteps. When she returns triumphant, he looks at her with such gratitude and pride that her eyes water. The moment she’s close enough, he gathers her into his arms and holds her tightly, his whole frame shaking as he presses his lips to her temple. “I’d say never do that again but I already know you will.”

 

She slips her hands beneath his jacket and wraps her arms around his waist, tilting her head to look up at him. “Impressive enough for you?”

 

His grip on her tightens. “Oh, River Song,” he sighs. “You impress me every day, without even trying.” He pulls back and grins at her. “I’m just trying to keep up.”

 

_6) He’ll use a magic wand_

 

He uses it for everything – to save the day, to open a jar, to scan her injuries, a distraction to fiddle with when he’s nervous or thinking. Watching him put up bookshelves in her dorm room, River lounges on her small bed, her scrap of blue construction paper hidden behind an open book propped up on her lap.

 

“It’s sort of like your magic wand.”

 

He glances up, floppy hair falling into his eyes and shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. “What?”

 

“Your screwdriver,” she says, eyeing number six on her list to keep her gaze off his forearms. “It’s your magic wand.”

 

The Doctor sputters. “Is not!”

 

“It is too,” she insists. “You use it like one.”

 

“This is _sonic_ ,” he says, frowning at her. “Not magic.”

 

“What about last month when you used it to make fireworks for those children in the Aplan village?” She raises an eyebrow and he scowls. “Might as well stop calling yourself the Doctor and start calling yourself the Magician instead.”

 

He squawks in outrage and she bites back a giggle. “It is not a wand.”

 

“What is it then?”

 

“A _tool_.”

 

“What sort of tool?” She smirks, tilting her head. “Kind of looks like a high tech vibrator. Does it have a setting for that, sweetie?”

 

“Spoilers.” Her eyes widen at the easily spoken admission and he claps his hand over his mouth, his face bright red. “No, wait! I mean – damn it.”

 

River falls back onto her bed in a fit of laughter, her list pressed tightly to her chest.

 

_7) His favorite color will be the same as mine – blue_

 

They’re walking back to the TARDIS after a long and arduous battle on Karfel with the Bandrilians, their joined hands swinging between them when the Doctor stops suddenly just outside the doors. River squeezes his hand worriedly. “Doctor? What is it?”

 

He glances down at her and she’s relieved to find that he’s grinning excitedly. “The TARDIS could use a repaint, wouldn’t you say, dear?”

 

She wonders if he knows how helpless she is to deny him anything when he calls her that. A few minutes later, their clothes changed and their brushes in hand, they set to work. River tries to paint one side while the Doctor works on another, hoping to divide and conquer, but whenever she moves, he follows her. He crowds her space without thought, his arm always brushing hers, always reaching around her to show her where she missed a spot, and generally driving her absolutely mad with his hot breath on the back of her neck.

 

Finally, when he breathes against her ear and she shudders rather embarrassingly, she turns on him with a glare. “What are you doing?”

 

Surely, he has to be doing this on purpose.

 

“Helping.” He beams innocently at her. “Oh, look. You missed a spot.”

 

“So did you.”

 

He frowns, scanning the TARDIS. “Really? Where?”

 

“Here.” She swipes her paintbrush over his cheek. “There. All better.”

 

He gapes at her in shock.

 

She smiles serenely back at him.

 

When he lunges, she shrieks and darts away. He chases her around the outside of the TARDIS, paintbrush in hand and laughter in his voice. With a leaping tackle, he manages to pin her to the ground and smear his paintbrush over her neck and chest while she struggles and squirms beneath him, laughing so hard she can’t breathe.

 

Tossing his brush aside, the Doctor leans back to admire her with a satisfied sigh, his smile soft and his eyes amused as he says, “I do love you in blue.”

 

River freezes beneath him, eyes wide.

 

He leans down and kisses her nose.

 

Using his distraction to her advantage, she snaps out of her daze and flips them over, leaving him sprawled out on the ground as she scrambles to her feet and away, her laughter echoing as she runs, an invitation for him to catch her – one he gladly accepts, and unknown to her, always will.

 

Much later, when the paint has been scrubbed from her skin and her hair, River lingers in the doorway of the TARDIS with him, biting her lip. “You’ll be there?”

 

He grins at her, cupping her cheek in his hand, his thumb absently brushing over newly cleaned skin. “Wouldn’t miss your graduation for the universe, Doctor Song.”

 

She glances away, flushing. “Alright, then. See you after the ceremony. You can take me to dinner.”

 

There is something strange in his eyes, something fond and sad. He doesn’t give her time to fret about it, bending his head quickly and kissing her properly for the first time since Berlin. There is no sign of the flailing, blushing man she has been familiar with since that last kiss. He holds her gently and expertly, his mouth moving over hers with confidence and a certain kind of sweetness that makes her toes curl inside her shoes. She feels like the most precious thing in his world.

 

When he lets her go, she turns and walks away with a lovesick grin on her face, leaving behind her hearts and a tattered piece of construction paper taped to the console, a lipstick kiss over her childish signature, like a seal of approval.


End file.
